The Slytherin Who Lived and the Philosopher's Stone
by Fictional One
Summary: Harry Potter is (despite his protests) sorted into Slytherin, will he manage to make friends in a house full of Death Eaters' children and a school full of people who hate him when he himself doesn't think he will? Future Harry/Luna, slight Harry/Hermione
1. Diagon Alley

AN: This first chapter is a slightly modified version of the scene in the books, later chapters will differ more greatly from the books

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

* * *

Harry stood at the entrance to Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, his stomach felt as though it had been turned upside-down. He took a deep breath and stepped into the shop, as soon as he did a squat, smiling witch hurried towards him.

'Hogwarts, dear?' she said when Harry started to speak. 'Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.'

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madame Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length.

'Hullo,' said the boy, 'Hogwarts too?'

'Yes,' said Harry.

'My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands', said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. 'Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first-years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow.'

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.

'Have _you_ got your own broom?' the boy went on.

'Not yet,' said Harry.

'Play Quidditch at all?'

'Not much,' Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

' _I_ do – father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?'

'Yes,' said Harry, just to seem like he knew something about Hogwarts.

'Well, what house will you be in?' the boy pushed.

'Why should I tell you?' said Harry, hoping the boy would change the subject.

'Well I know I'll be in Slytherin, all my family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave wouldn't you?'

'Uh Huh,' Harry hummed, cursing his bravado.

'I say, look at that man!' said the boy suddenly, nodding towards the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice-creams to show he couldn't come in.

'That's Hagrid,' said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn't. 'He works at Hogwarts.'

'Oh,' said the boy, I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?'

'He's the gamekeeper,' said Harry. He was liking the boy less and less every second.

'Yes, exactly. I heard he's sort of _savage_ – lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed,'

'Well I think he's brilliant,' said Harry coldly.

' _Do_ you?' said the boy, with a slight sneer. 'Why is he with you? Where are your parents?'

'Not in Diagon Alley,' said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like discussing his parents with this boy.

An awkward silence fell between them.

'Your parents are _our_ kind, aren't they?'

'They're a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean.'

'I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get their letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname anyway?'

But before Harry could think of an answer, Madame Malkin said, 'That's you done, my dear,' and Harry, happy for an excuse to escape this awkward conversation with the boy, hopped down from the footstool.

'Well I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,' said the drawling boy.

* * *

Harry lost himself in thought as he ate his ice-cream.

'Hagrid, what's Quidditch?' he asked, 'The boy in the store mentioned it,'


	2. The Sorting Hat

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

AN: This chapter was re-uploaded with some minor changes, mainly regarding Harry's conversation with the sorting hat

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Harry stood in a cramped room with all the other first years, while Professor McGonagall gave them a speech about the houses and announced that they would be sorted in a few minutes. Harry tried to discreetly flatten his hair, but quickly abandoned it. Everyone in the room looked terrified, and it was dead silent except for Hermione, who was reciting spells, Ron looked like he was going to implode. Their nervousness was contagious, and Harry found himself frozen in place.

The silence was broken rather suddenly however, when a group of ghosts floated into the room and several students shrieked. The ghosts were arguing about someone named Peeves, they eventually noticed the first-years and one started chattering excitedly when Professor McGonagall returned.

'Now form a line,' she told them, 'and follow me,'

It took Harry until most of the other students had made a line to move. He stood behind Ron at the end of the line. As Professor McGonagall led them out of the crowded room and through large double-doors into the Great Hall Harry's vision started to narrow, and he felt as though he was going to throw up.

His mind was temporarily distracted from his internal panic when they entered the Great Hall. It was lit by thousands of floating candles, and the five long tables were set with golden plates and goblets. The first-years were led up to the table at the top of the hall where all the staff sat, and came to a halt in line facing towards the rest of the students and away from the teachers.

Sensing the return of his tunnel vision, Harry looked up towards the ceiling and saw a pure black sky dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper that it was bewitched to look like the sky outside according to Hogwarts: A History. It certainly looked convincing. Professor McGonagall put a fraying, patched hat on a stool in front of them, he looked towards the older students, but they were all staring at the hat, so Harry did the same. Soon enough the brim of the hat opened up and it began singing.

'Oh you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!'

The Hall burst into applause when it finished the song, and the hat bowed to the four tables before returning to its previous, innocuous state.

'So we've just got to try on the hat?' Ron whispered to Harry. 'I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll.'

Harry smiled at him, he was glad he didn't have to do a spell, but he was sure the moment the hat was placed on his head it would announce he didn't belong to any house and had to be sent back home in front of the entire Great Hall.

'When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,' declared Professor McGonagall, who was standing be the hat with a long roll of parchment. 'Abbot, Hannah!'

Harry's tunnel vision quickly returned, all he could see was the hat and the head that has wearing it. He suddenly jerked into a panicked alertness though when a Perks, Sally-Anne was called forwards and immediately after she was sorted,

'Potter, Harry'

As soon as his name was called, whispers broke out across the entire Hall and everyone stared at him intensely, twisting in their seats to get a better look at him. Harry took a deep breath as the hat dropped over his eyes and waited.

'Hmm,' said a small voice into his ear, 'Difficult. Very difficult. Not much courage yet, I see. A good mind, though. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – but I can see you doubt yourself, now that's interesting… So where shall I put you?'

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, 'Not Slytherin, not Slytherin,'

'Not Slytherin, eh? You could become great there if you put your mind to it, you know,'

'I'm never going to be great!'

'Well not for some time no… but you have the ambition. When you become yourself you'll fit right in in Slytherin.'

'What do you mean when I become my- '

'SLYTHERIN!'

The hat shouted the last word out to the entire Hall, there was a moment of quiet before everyone broke out into whispers, which escalated into yells as Harry slowly made his way to the Slytherin table, feeling distinctly like there was a weight in his stomach. He sat at the very front on the end of the bench, next to a girl with black hair, wishing he could be farther away from Malfoy and the other Slytherins. It was several minutes before McGonagall managed to get the students to stop talking about Harry in order to continue the Sorting Ceremony.

To distract himself from the rest of the table, he looked up at the staff table. Sitting on the end farthest from him was Hagrid who gave Harry a wave when he caught his eye, he spotted Professor Quirrell as well, looking nervous as usual, and in the center of the table was Dumbledore, looking just like he did on his Chocolate Frog card with his silver hair shining brighter than the ghosts.

Harry looked back towards McGonagall and the sorting hat when Ron's name was called, a second later the hat sorted him into Gryffindor and Harry's heart sank. Blaise Zabini was the last to get sorted and came to sit at the Slytherin table across from Harry.

Dumbledore stood up and beamed at the students, 'Welcome!' he said. 'Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!' he sat back down as everyone applauded, and Harry wondered if he was a bit mad. But he was quickly distracted as the tables filled with food and his mouth watered. He filled his plate with food and began eating, it was delicious.

Everyone around him began to talk with amongst themselves, most of them already knew each other. Some of them shot him strange looks but for the most part they ignored him, the ones near him were turned away from him slightly. So Harry focused on his food and the staff table, which was the only table he could observe without looking past the rest of his house. Hagrid was drinking what was probably alcohol, McGonagall and Dumbledore were talking over their food, and Quirrell was speaking with a greasy haired man who was glaring at him over his hooked nose.

All of a sudden Snape looked away from Quirrell and straight at Harry, who received a splitting pain across the scar on his forehead. He winced in pain and grabbed his forehead until the pain subsided. The girl beside him was giving him a very odd look indeed, so Harry tried to look like it was just a headache and continued to gaze vacantly towards the head table. Snape didn't look at him again.

There was a clear weight in the air around the first-years at his table and he felt distinctly like they would be talking about him if he wasn't sitting next to them. The weight was dissipated though, when Dumbledore stood to give his second speech of the evening.

'Ahem – just a few more words now that we're all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember as well.' Dumbledore shot his twinkling eyes in the direction of the Weasley twins. 'I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of therm. Anyone interested in playing for their house team should contact Madame Hooch. And finally, I must tell you this year, the third-floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.

Harry let out a weak 'Heh,' that was met with continued silence from his house mates.

'And before we go to bed let us all sing the school song!' Cried Dumbledore, as the rest of the staff's smiles became forced. Dumbledore flicked his wand and a long golden ribbon flew out and floated above the tables, twisting itself into words. 'Everyone pick their favourite tune, and off we go!'

'Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot.'

Harry didn't feel much like singing, a sentiment it seemed was shared with his peers, as the only voices coming from the table were far towards the back of the Hall. The last to finish singing were the Weasley twins, who sang to the tune of a slow funeral march. Harry laughed on the inside.

'Ah, music, a magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!'

'First-years over here!' cried out a fifth year girl with long dark hair. 'Welcome to Slytherin! I'm your prefect, Gemma Farley, please follow me,'

Harry felt himself getting sleepy as they walked out into the entrance hall and down into the dungeons but the cold air shocked him awake. He was lagging far behind the rest of the group and from how they were whispering he could guess that they were finally talking about him.

He gradually got closer to them and despite still being rather far behind them, began to make out most of what they were (quite loudly) whispering.

 _'Do you know how he got into Slytherin?'_

 _'The hat took a while to sort him, I bet he had to beg it to let him in,'_

 _'Well he is a mudblood, so…'_

' _Did you see him grab his scar?'_

After making their way through the labyrinth of dungeon hallways, they came to a halt in front of one of many grey brick walls. ' _Aegaius,_ ' Gemma proclaimed. And the wall opened to reveal a large room with green lanterns, windows looking into the lake, and black leather sofas and armchairs.

Gemma pointed the girls down one corridor and the boys down another. Halfway down the hallway they came across the door labelled First-years. Inside they found the bed with their trunk at the end (Harry made sure his was locked), put on their pyjamas, and got into bed, closing green velvet curtains behind them.

* * *

The rest of the dorm seemed to sleep soundly, but Harry had nightmares about Gryffindor, Slytherin, Malfoy, and Snape.


	3. Potions Class

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

AN: This chapter has also been updated, the changes are a bit more substantial in this one, namely regarding Roxanna Fournier (or lack thereof) and parts of Harry's potions class

* * *

People all over the castle would stop to stare at Harry, sometimes they would stand in groups and talk to each other while they looked at him, most of them talked about him like he wasn't even human. It made him grateful for the subtly the majority of the Slytherins had, but Draco, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle made him miss the companionable conversations he and Ron had on the train. He hadn't had any classes with the Gryffindors yet and hadn't spoken to Ron since the sorting, Ron had said a lot of bad things about Slytherin though so Harry doubted he would _want_ to talk to him. Merlin knows he wouldn't want to talk to him.

Harry tried not to follow the other first-year Slytherins around but after he found himself on the wrong side of Filch during the first morning of classes for trying to get into the forbidden third-floor corridor, too often he found himself trailing behind them in the hallways so as not to get lost, he found if he didn't stand too close to Malfoy everything seemed to go smoothly, this meant he hid behind Blaise and Theodore most of the time but they didn't say anything.

On Friday, Harry made his way to the Great Hall late, having fallen too far behind the other Slytherins and gotten lost in the depths of the dungeon. He rushed to sit down before the food disappeared, but as soon as he did it sank down into the table and everyone started to get up to go class. Harry just resigned himself to a morning of hunger. It's not so different from being at the Dursley's he thought bitterly.

Harry started to get up when he realized that Hedwig was sitting in front of him. How he hadn't noticed her already was a mystery. She hopped closer to him and held out her leg impatiently. Harry took the paper from her and realized as she flew away that the Great Hall was completely empty.

He stuffed the note in his pocket and hurried out the doors and down the steps into the dungeon. He ran as fast as he could towards the potions classroom and managed to only take one wrong turn along the way, but it was to no avail. When he walked into potions class Snape had already begun taking the register and all eyes were on him as he opened the door. And Harry wanted to die.

'Mr. Potter,' Snape sneered, 'I see that you have decided that you are above the tardiness rules. No doubt all the other professors let you get away with such blatant disrespect. You will soon find I do not make exceptions for school, celebrities. I will see you in my office at seven o'clock sharp this evening.'

'B-but professor I got lost.' Technically true.

'And I would advise against any cheek unless you wish to be spending your weekend serving detention as well.'

'Great' thought Harry, 'my head of house hates me' as Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and _Ron_ snickered. Harry seemed to have been correct in assuming Ron didn't want anything to do with him. It still hurt though.

The only free seats were next to Millicent and Hermione, but the moment Harry walked in the door Millicent had moved her bag to take up the stool beside her. Harry was going to have to sit next to Hermione, he groaned internally.

'You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper on death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach,' Hermione fidgeted on the edge of her seat next to Harry, eager to prove she wasn't a dunderhead.

'Potter!' Snape called suddenly, 'What would I get if I added powered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?'

'I don't know, sir,' Harry said as Hermione's hand shot into the air.

'Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything,' Snape sneered, ignoring Hermione's hand. 'Lets try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?'

Hermione's hand stayed in the air and Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were shaking with laughter, but Harry hadn't the slightest idea as to what a bezoar was.

'I don't know, sir,'

'Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?'

Harry stared blankly into Snape's eyes.

'What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?'

Hermione stood up at this and stretched towards the ceiling.

'I don't know,' said Harry quietly.

'Pathetic, Potter. Sit down,' Snape snapped at Hermione, 'For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it's known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you copying that down?' the room filed with the rustling of parchment and scratching of quills.

After that they brewed a simple cure for boils in pairs and Snape walked around criticizing everyone but Malfoy. Hermione wouldn't let Harry touch the potion, so Harry handed her ingredients, Hermione checked to make sure they were the right ones, and added them to the potion as needed. All of a sudden clouds of acid green smoke filled the room and a loud hissing sound could be heard, both coming from Ron's caldron, which Neville had managed to melt. The potion, which was seeping across the floor, burned holes in peoples shoes and pretty soon everyone was standing on their stools while Neville collapsed onto the floor as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs

'Idiot boy!' Snape snarled, 'I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?' Neville just whimpered as boils continued to pop up all over his face. 'Take him to the hospital wing,' Snape spat at Ron. 'Potter! Why didn't you tell him not to add the quills, thought it would make you look good? You can finish making the potion Neville destroyed,'

Snape waved his wand, mending Ron's caldron and gesturing to the now empty desk. Harry opened his mouth to protest before stopping himself, if anything protesting would just make things worse. So he heaved a sigh and set to starting to brew a brand new potion at the recently vacated desk. When Ron came back from taking Neville to the hospital wing he sat next to Harry in silence and after a while Snape made him sit with Hermione.

Harry made his way out of the dungeons furious, he hadn't managed to finish the potion and he was sure Snape would take marks away from him for it. He looked at the letter from breakfast, it was an invitation from Hagrid for tea. So at quarter to three Harry set out to Hagrid's hut and knocked on the door. And after being tackled with licks by Hagrid's dog, Fang, Harry apologized for not replying to Hagrid's invitation and they began discussing the teachers and classes of Hogwarts.

Towards the end of his visit with Hagrid, Harry noticed a newspaper cutting about a Gringotts break-in. It had happened the same day Harry was there with Hagrid, Harry asked Hagrid about it but he didn't answer, wouldn't even meet Harrys eyes, and on the clipping it said the vault broken into had been emptied the very same day. And Hagrid had technically emptied vault 713.


	4. Flying Lessons

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

AN: This chapter has also been updated

One morning Malfoy seemed particularly enthusiastic about his "flying expertise" and was boasting loudly about it before they even left the common room. As they made their way to the great hall Harry concluded that they had flying lessons on Thursday with the Gryffindors. Harry was sure he would fall off a broom the minute he got on one. He had no idea how a _broom_ was supposed to fly, but there must be a spell that made things fly. What if the spell wore off while he was in the air? What if Malfoy or Ron put a jinx on his broom that made it stop flying as soon as he pushed off from the ground, sending him crashing face-first into the dirt? What if someone pushed him off his broom? What if… No, there was nothing he could do about any of that so he'd just have to deal with it when it happened.

Once the post arrived Malfoy switched to gloating about the sweets his mother sent him and Harry considered moving farther down the table. He glanced down at the rest of the table but all the spaces that were left were sandwiched between people he didn't know. He had a terrible image of him getting up and no one letting him sit back down.

At three-thirty that afternoon after Herbology with the Ravenclaws they walked down towards a field near the Quidditch pitch.

'We should've had flying classes on the Quidditch pitch, it would have made it so much more interesting,' Malfoy announced to the field.

'Then the Quidditch teams couldn't practice,' Harry told him, not that anyone seemed to hear.

They lined up beside the brooms laid out on the ground and watched the Gryffindors walk down from the castle.

'Stick out your right hand over your broom and say, UP!' Madame Hooch called.

Harry's broom was rather ragged looking and didn't move an inch when he said 'up', neither did Neville's, Hermione's rolled over, but despite this Harry was quite delighted when Malfoy's broom only jumped two-thirds of the way to his hand.

Then Madame Hooch showed them how to mount their brooms and checked everyone's grip. Harry actually smiled when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years. Maybe flying wouldn't be so bad after all.

'Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle – three – two – '

Neville cut her off though, because he accidentally launched himself into the air before the whistle even touched Madame Hooch's lips.

'Come back boy!' she shouted.

Neville shook on his broom and continued to shoot straight up. Then, when he was about twenty feet in the air he looked down towards the ground, and with a particularly terrible shake, slid sideways off his broom and crashed onto the ground, a red marble flying out of his pocket as he fell. Madame Hooch bent over Neville, muttered something about a broken wrist and helped him towards the hospital wing. Shouting threats to anyone who dared to touch their broom while she was gone behind her.

'Did you see his face, the great lump?' Malfoy laughed, his cronies joining in.

Parvati Patil snapped back at him and soon it was a full-blown argument between Malfoy and his gang and Ron and his Gryffindor friends. Harry pointedly ignored them all and looked around, trying to appear bored, when his eyes fell upon a red marble lying on the ground, glancing towards the shouting match, he darted forwards to pick the marble up and put it in his pocket. As soon as he did, Malfoy started shouting at him too and Harry played dumb, and feigned neutrality until Madame Hooch came back.

Flying was, indeed, not so bad after all. Even Harry himself had to admit that he was at least decent at it.

That night Harry sat awake in bed staring at the once red marble that had at some point turned a smoky grey in his pocket, indicating that it was clearly magical in some way. He knew that Neville would probably want it back and he should return it to him, but how? He doubted Ron or the other Gryffindors would let get close enough to Neville to hand it back to him, and even if he could it would probably cause a huge scene.

Harry tucked the marble into the drawer of his bedside table and resolved to send to Neville in the mail as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Friday afternoon, after another terrible double potions class in the morning, Harry went up to the owlery with a ball of crumpled paper in his hand. Hedwig instantly flew down from her perch to greet him.

'I'm sorry. I don't want people to know I'm the one who sent this package so I'll have to use one of the school owls.'

Hedwig promptly almost bit a piece out of his ear and flew back to her perch. Harry sighed, even his owl didn't like him.

'Take this to Neville,' Harry directed, handing the package to a school owl. The owl flew back up to its own perch to wait for breakfast tomorrow.

Inexplicably, Harry left the owlery feeling worse than when he arrived.

Harry watched at breakfast as Neville received his marble in the mail, a remembrall apparently. The first-year Gryffindors seemed to be in great debate about who had sent it. Harry turned away, they would never suspect him, so it was useless waiting to see who they thought did.

The upside of this was that his housemates didn't know that is was him who sent it either, as that certainly wouldn't help his popularity. Harry was perfectly fine with being invisible, it was a step up from being a target. But being invisible meant that he had an inordinate amount of time to devote to schoolwork, which inevitably lead to finishing said schoolwork and being left bored.

Harry spent most of his spare time looking for interesting books in the library. He found one about the creation of spells, and another listing various muggle things that had magical histories. Still, he found himself staring into space or out the window letting himself drift away from reality into a world of pessimistic ponderings.

AN: As previously mentioned, this chapter has been updated and is much shorter as a result since I deleted the entire scene with Fluffy


	5. All Hallows' Eve

AN: This chapter took me a riddikulusly long time for being the second shortest chapter after chapter one, but **enjoy!**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

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It had been nearly two months since Harry had run into the three-headed dog in the corridor, and he wondered if the door was still unlocked. His curiosity would have to go unfulfilled though, because he wasn't going to check. He still didn't know what was in that little package that was being hidden in Hogwarts, and used the mystery to distract himself from his isolation. He couldn't think of the grubby package from Gringotts all he time though, and so turned his focus to his schoolwork, which was getting steadily more interesting.

It was the morning Hallows Eve and so far it was going pretty well. The food was even better that usual and Roxanna's friends Alyssia and Catriona had done an excellent job of explaining Quidditch over breakfast. After breakfast was transfiguration, and Harry's good mood didn't falter. When he was walking to defence though, a crying Hermione shot past him, he took no notice of it, but there was a damper on his mood now.

* * *

Harry didn't see Hermione at lunch, but Alyssia and Catriona started to tell him all the other things they had remembered about Quidditch that morning, so he very well could have missed her.

* * *

The damper reappeared in charms class after lunch, when the charm to make things fly turned out to be really hard, he still hadn't made his feather float by the end of class, and Harry left feeling severely frustrated.

After Herbology it was finally time for the feast, and Harry was thoroughly enjoying himself with his food and the talk about all the bats and pumpkins. The world seemed intent on ruining his good mood however, and Malfoy started shouting at him from down the table.

'Hey! Potter!'

Harry kept listening to Roxanna.

'Watch out for the bats, you won't be able to charm them away from you!'

Harry took a bite of his jacket potato.

'A shame you don't have any friends who will do it for either,' Malfoy continued with a mocking pout. His entourage laughed.

Harry swallowed his potato and took a deep breath.

Malfoy had barely started his next insult when Harry felt the overwhelming urge to leave the Hall before Malfoy and his pathetic insults managed to work him up. So he told Roxanna something about homework and left the Great Hall. Finishing off his potato, he started wandering the halls. After two months of living at Hogwarts he could make his way around the school without getting lost for the most part.

He walked past Professor Quirrell on his second flight of stairs and heard someone crying in the corridor shortly after. His starved curiosity led him towards the sound. And it led him to an ajar door, to the girls' toilets. Hermione running past him crying flashed in his memory, was she in here? _Still_ crying?

Harry peered into the room and saw nothing but stalls and sinks. He debated whether or not he should push the door open more, it might lead to a very awkward conversation.

Suddenly, there was a rush of people flooding past in the corridor this one led off of.

He spun around when he heard a heavy crash behind him, quickly followed by another crash, and another. Steadily getting louder. Whatever was crashing about in the corridor was making an awful stench as well.

While he was distracted by the smell the crashes kept getting closer, until he looked up and a troll was lumbering down the corridor towards him. He threw tact out the window and ran into the bathroom. He pushed the door closed with his entire body, but the latch didn't work, and the door locked from the outside. Which would explain why a bathroom door would be ajar.

'What the hell are you doing in here!?'

Harry looked behind him to see Hermione standing next to one of the stalls, glaring at him though wet eyes.

'Hiding from a troll,' Harry told her as calmly as he could.

'What!?' she screeched.

Harry was about to explain when the door was flung open and he was thrown across the room to the opposite wall. He passes out for a few seconds, but Hermione shoots loud firecrackers at the corner beside the door that wake him up. The troll turns and lugs his way towards the fireworks while Hermione hurries him towards the door.

They're almost at he door when the troll faces them again, Hermione shoots more firecrackers behind them. The troll merely turns to look at the explosions before turning back to them, but by then they're already out the door.

Hermione locks the door behind them and through his stupor Harry manages to cast a strength charm on the door. A good precaution, because the door soon caves towards them slightly, prompting Hermione to quickly cast another.

He can hear people rushing down the corridors towards them, there was a lot of noise wasn't there.

'You should go, y'll get 'n trouble,' Harry murmurs. He's shaking, and the whole world is spinning in his tunnel vision.

Hermione looks down the corridor the troll came from, but sits beside him.

And Harry can hear voices from the people rushing in their direction when he blacks out.


End file.
